Giving...and Receiving

He looked like Jesus. Except for the fact that he wasn't Middle-Eastern. And he was wearing jeans and a t-shirt while carrying a backpack. And he was in Fresno. But if you take one of those European paintings of Jesus where he is white and thin, not so much effeminate but not Grizzly Adams, either. He had a beard and longer hair, and my first thought when I met him was that he looked like Jesus. Especially his eyes. Piercing blue eyes that seemed to look within me. The kind of eyes that almost make you uncomfortable when you look into them.

But, let's be honest. I did not expect him to speak or act like Jesus. After all, he was a homeless man from Fresno's Tent City. He resides in squalid conditions that most of us would not consider humane for our dogs. I assume addiction or something similar has led him to the streets, but I was apprehensive about asking. Truthfully, I expected him to smell - a weird mixture of beer, cigarettes and body odor so common down there - but he didn't. Still, I did not expect much from him, especially in the spiritual realm.

His name was John. I was intrigued by his name, especially since I thought he looked like Jesus. I remembered reading a short book by a Christian author a couple years back that hinted at meeting John, as in the apostle. Recalling that book I laughed to myself, or maybe at myself for thinking this tent-dweller could be remotely like an apostle or the Rabbi.

I found out that he had visited the church where I preach, but not since I have been there. His impressions were positive. But Sundays were hard for him. He did not want to come to worship without a shower, but the showers were overcrowded on Sunday mornings. Maybe there was more, but I had heard this from another homeless man who attends our services so I knew this to be a real issue. The man with me offered to pick him up early enough to get use the showers at our building, but he balked at this suggestion. In my mind, I couldn't help but think that maybe he just wasn't interested in church, or Jesus for that matter. The resemblance was just a coincidence.

What happened next moved me so deeply that I found myself fighting back tears. In fact, it was several hours before I could even talk about it.

My friend told John that we would be in prayer for him. John responded by asking, "What do YOU want ME to pray for, for you?" When neither of us gave much of a response, he got more specific. "In the next few minutes and hours of this day, what can I pray about for you?" The next thing I knew (it was as if this was happening in slow motion) I was standing in the street holding hands with my friend...and with John. And instead of my voice praying over this poor homeless man, I heard John's voice. His prayer was long. Not wordy, really. But he had a lengthy conversation with God, and his words told me that he was well acquainted with the One to whom he was speaking. But even more moving than the fact that he was praying was the content of his prayer. He did not ask for one thing for himself. His whole prayer was focused on my friend and me, sprinkled with praises to God for His greatness and provision, for His mercy and grace. In that moment I was taken aback to realize that I had showed up downtown to minister to the homeless, yet here I was being ministered to by John.

In Matthew's account of  Jesus' life, he recorded this quote (Jesus speaking in the second person about Himself): "That is what the Son of Man has done: He came to serve, not be served—and then to give away his life in exchange for the many who are held hostage" (20.28). Though John was homeless, and by all indications destitute, he was not there to be served but to serve. It was humbling, to say the least. It forced me to come face-to-face with my own sinfulness. I was brought low, and at the same time lifted up.  So come to think of it, he really did look like Jesus.

Thank you, Father, for reminding me of my constant need for your mercy. Thank you for showing me that being a minister does not exempt me from the need for ministry in my own life. And thank you for using John to change me. Through Jesus, Amen